#when they take me for my wisdom teeth im going to be dragged out kicking and screamjng i bet

[bluebellhairpin]

I am preparing for another emotionally and mentally exhausting day, bc today is the day im going to be told my wisdom teeth need to come out.

[moved2usagiiboo]

Chapter one

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18+💞

“Im doing this for you.” My husband gruffs out as he takes another drink of his hard liquor, the back of his heavily ringed hand burns from the slap. One would think after all the times he’s slapped me he would get used to the pain.

“Ngh!” I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing my pleads as he grips my hair from the root, holding me up with just one hand as- Dragging me to that room. Rusted metal, dark orange rust seeping from every crevasse of the disgusting prison like door. His dungeon, seemingly medieval as the only thing emitting light in this place are five wall torches. The 10 stairs leading to the cell room are disgusting, dirt, dust, and mice cover the floor below. The sound of fire popping is background noise to my groans as he drags me down the stairs. My arms flying to his wrist, clawing away. He doesn’t flinch, he’s used to this. His arms are covered in scars from my nails, result of me fighting back. I remember when cut my nails because of all the scratches I left on him. Swinging open the door before he throws me inside, I’m used to this.

Unlike when I first had to suffer my punishment, I banged on the metal cell door until my hands grew sore, my fist bleed from all the banging, my throat ran sore as I yelled profanities. That only made it worse, the more I complained, the more I cried, showed any emotion or action that is not complete obedience, I was punished. Slaps, kicks, whips, branding, everything he could think of, anything other than his fist. Why? Because he would never raise his fist as a woman, but he’d gladly push the lit side of a cigar into my skin relishing in the way I bit my bottom lip.

“Don’t scream.” He was calm as he used me like an astray, I hate it here, but what can I do? I signed the contract.

“Stay in here and think about what you did.” My hands on my knees as my body leaned to the side, my shirt torn and hair a mess. He liked me this way. Broken.

“Yes sir.” Complete obedience, like a dog.

“Good girl.”

As I sat in the dimly lit dungeon, all alone with my thoughts. My scalp burning from the recent tug of my hair, I crawl to the wall. My dirty fingers find their way into my mouth, I taste the dirt from the cell ground and whatever else was there. Two fingers go to my wisdom teeth, tugging on the top of the tooth gently, wiggling before I felt a ‘pop’, I winced gently at feeling of my tongue being cut. A razor blade, the wiggling caused the blade to pop off my tooth at a pace faster than I could counter. It didn’t hurt though, I’ve felt worse.

Blood dripping down the corner of my mouth onto my bruised knees, I drag the blade in a meticulous manner on the fragile cemented wall. A image, a picture. The manor I reside in, the Sakura trees around the house, myself, my husband, all but I am crossed out by ununiformed circles and crooked ‘x’s. Flames surrounding everything and one around it except for I. I am safe, untouched by the flames. I felt my eyes whelm with hatred.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” A mantra as I stabbed the stick figure of my husband with the tip of the blade, over, and over. The blood on my bruise knee looked enticing, my thumb swiping the blood causing it to smear on my delicate skin. Harsh and small circles on my stick figure husband, the blood smearing on his body, his head.

“My beloved husband.” My voice is soft, fragile, but oh-so dark. The metal taste mix with chalk from my thumb tastes like revenge. I will get revenge.

“Miss, you’re not helping your case.” The police officer sighed, Naoto he said his name was. His body leaning against the table as his hands rested on the edge. His head down shaking as he listens to you talk. “First your husband turns up dead and now a fire? Mrs. Fukushū.”

“Ms.” You correct, leg crossing the other as you take a sip of the coffee provided for you. Your purple somewhat see-through robe felt nice against your now crossed arms, the feathers on the end of the material felt fluffy, complete 180 from the silk of the robe.

“Excuse me?” The cop’s eyebrow cocked upwards as he raises his head.

“My husband is dead, correct? Which makes me a “Ms.” not a “Mrs.”” Your hand raised as you explained, twirling it softly looking at the front, the back, now your fingers resting on your palm as you look at the rock on your ring finger. “He’s dead…” Your voice trailed off.

“Ms. Fukashū, you seem like a smart woman. You already know about the rumors surrounding his death— you’re in serious danger. Not just by the police but those who your husband worked closely with.” Finally sitting down in the chair, his gaze softens at the sight of the sadness in your eyes. You’re feigning strength, you’re hurt yet you refuse to show anyone. What happened in your life to make you feel as if you can’t show any emotion?

“I understand that, but I can’t give you information I do not have officer. I don’t know what happened, I was out of town.” You nibbled the inside of your lip as you turned to face him.

“Many witnesses spotted you in town.” He’s itching to get anything out of you.

“Those same witnesses who are out to get me? Is any of their information trustworthy Naoto?” The use of his name as his heart thumping. To say you’re an attractive woman would be an understatement, you’re stunning. Even with smudge eyeliner and lipstick, red eyes from either alcohol or crying, you look like a goddess.

Clearing his throat, tips of his ears a light shade of pink. “Well, then let’s get to the topic of arson.” A scoff slips from your lips, “arson”, it’s your property is it not? You have the right to do with it what you see fit.

“What about it officer?” You sigh, legs on your lap; ready to hear your punishment.

“You can potentially be seeing three to five years in prison, however, it’s obvious you’re unwell… I recommend pleading insanity— be put in a mental institute for a few days or perhaps weeks, it’ll also keep you save from whatever attacks may be planned against you.” Another scoff with the roll of your eyes, you weren’t insane. You were overwhelmed— your tormentor had been murdered in cold blood, everyday you have been receiving death threats from those around him, not to mention his god mother—That old hag had threatened to hire a private investigator to prove you killed him. Bitch.

But no matter, even if they were to accuse you, there’s no proof. No proof, no case, no conviction. Besides, you’ll be long gone— Spain, perhaps. Sipping on your luxurious drink with your favorite boy toy, the smell of cigars and sex in your lungs as you bask in the European sun.

“Is that all officer?” Snapping out of your daydreams, you’re ready to leave.

“That’s all Miss— “ He stops, watches you lift yourself from the chair with a small groan. Turn on the soles of your feet, right before you open the door he speaks once more. “Plead insanity, for your sake. Take the plead.”

“Goodbye officer.” As your head hung high the thick heavy door opened, an officer holding it open for you— your hand on the door and the side of the wall you turn back. “May our paths cross again.”

An officer was kind enough to cover your body with a blanket, after all they could let a woman leave with just a see-through robe. You were offered a ride, but you ultimately declined – you don’t want anyone to see you right now. Not at your weakest moment. White fog leaves your mouth as you sigh, a hand raised as you cross the street of oncoming cars. Three flickers of your lighter before your cigarette is sizzling, red and orange burns at the butt of it. A deep inhale, allowing the smoke to fill your lungs, enjoying the way it warms your chest. Now, blow. Let it all out.

You’re free.

You’re okay.

He’s gone, you don’t have to worry anymore. He can’t hurt you anymore, the bruises will fade, the pain will disintegrate, and your feelings will be blown away – just like the smoke in the wind. What once was is no longer. The main cause of your pain and suffering is gone, so why do you feel so hurt?

Back straightening as your eyes run cold, two fingers holding your cancer stick in between them. A half-lid glare as you stare at the black car that had been circling the block since you left the police station.

So, not free yet. Now what Y/n?

The answer is obvious, isn’t it? You take prideful steps, going on your merry way as if no one is following you. You act oblivious to it all, your eye occasionally eyeing the car – they’re waiting. The driver is predictable, you both make it to a red light. You pretend to not notice the obvious shifting through the semi tinted windows. Lifting one foot to your butt as you take off your heel and then doing the same to the other foot— placing your expensive shoes on the ground saying your last goodbyes mentally.

They were ready to grab you. The moment the movements stop, you make your move.

Legs picking up speed, one taking large strides as the other goes to the back. Repeating over and over, the wind whips your hair as you run as fast as your legs can take you. The driver sees your running figure and follows. Hot on your tail as the person ran the red-light, cars honking at the black car for going out of turn. Hand grabbing onto the street pole, helping in your aid with the sharp turn. The car picks up it’s acceleration and you hit another turn, almost slipping in the process, but you recover. One knee kneeled as your leg was stretched out to the side, hands bracing your body on the ground. You have no time to rest.

Run.

“Fuck off!” You shout out, middle finger to the driver. Your body fills with hope as you see an alleyway, presumably too narrow for the car. Unfortunately, not the car head lights shine bright on your back as it chases you down the alleyway. Cats yowling at the car, trash cans being hit with a loud bang. A fence, fucking great. You see the car stop in place the moment you do; you turn around only to see the car door open. You can’t see who’s coming out due to the bright white headlights, and you don’t plan on sticking around for it. The jiggle of the metal fence is loud as your hands bang on it, tips of your feet finding stability inside the tiny holes as you climb up the fence.

“Stop running!” The voice is deep and masculine – so much for husband’s protecting their wives. It’s always something with your late husband, even in death.

You leap over the fence once you reach the top, your robe bottom getting tore in the process. Just because you climbed over the fence doesn’t mean you’re safe. You hear the jiggling from the fence, he’s climbing over.

You turn around faster than you ever have, running down the alleyway to the busy streets. The cars honking at you for running directly in the traffic. You couldn’t care less, at least obstructing the traffic will leave that man busy for a while. You find yourself on a bridge, heavy heaving as you hunch over.

“Shit.” You’re huffing.

“God, you’re fucking fast.” Shit is right. Two men appear, one with short purple and black hair and the other with the same color scheme but in a mullet. Sons of bitches.

“No where to go pretty, just surrender alright?” The short haired man speaks. Straightening up your form you smirk at them, slowly taking steps back to the rails of the bridge.

“Go fuck yourself.” With two middle fingers for each man, you stepped on the railing – loud yelling can be heard from them as you reverse dive into the water below. Back arched with the smirk never leaving your face, middle fingers never being put down. The men watch you from the rail spewing curse words.

Fuck you were tired, all that fucking running. You need a cigarette. Your hands pawing at the grass as you pull your body out of the freezing water. Hair stuck to your face that dripped water down your face. Rolling your body over with a groan, laying back flat on the ground. You wiped the hair off of your face through your heavy pants. Chest heaving up and down over and over.

“Fuck.” You growl out, hoarse and dry. You see a man in a pink mullet with tons of earrings on his ears, the jewelry jiggled as he leaned over.

A wide and toothy smile as he spoke. “Come with me, yeah?”

Fuck marriage.

💞Taglist: Open💞

@bxnten @bontensucker @sammcaav222 @karterwest @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @toobsessedsstuff @shinichirosupremacy

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I'm trying something new with this series, so 😩 let's see how this works

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 29]

Rating: M Words: 2341 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: Something amazing happens.

So so so so so so many that it's close to infinite thank you's to @xmjcx​ for helping me with this chapter. Her wisdom got me over a roadblock I couldn't figure out my way around, so, yeah. I'm just forever grateful. (hopefully this butters her up enough that she's not mad at me for posting it while she's asleep whoops)

Enjoy!

Kristoff had insisted, after their long-running burger dinner, that either she should come to his, or let him come to hers. But Anna had smiled and shook her head, promising that she just had a very bad headache and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. 

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He stroked a nervous thumb over the back of her hand before she leapt out of his truck. 

No kiss.

“I know,” she smiled again, but it still wasn’t reaching her eyes.

Anna waved and left him sitting alone, worried and upset, as he watched her shoulders sag as she made her way up the stairs. He hoped maybe some sleep would help.

But then she didn’t show up the next day. To be fair, she didn’t really have any work to do when there wasn’t a game - she just usually came to watch practice and hang out afterwards - but it was strange nonetheless. 

He had texted her as soon as he got off the ice.

Want me to come over tonight? I’ll bring dinner? Chinese?

aww, you’re sweet. im just not feeling well. maybe tomorrow?

All right… let me know.

of course!

He didn’t even hear from her for another day after that.

She came in on Thursday for a game against St. Louis, and Kristoff took note of the caked makeup over her dark, puffy under eyes. “Hi, baby,” he tried, letting out a heavy sigh of relief when she immediately stepped into his outstretched arms and pressed her nose into his shoulder. “Feeling better?”

Her head shook a firm no against him, but he wasn’t going to push it. Kristoff was just thankful she was _here _and responding to him.

“I’m here,” he breathed into her hair. “Whatever you need.”

He swore he felt her sob against him.

She powered through the night, interviews were jovial and upbeat as she made jokes and teased and talked through play-by-plays with some of his teammates. You could barely even see how much makeup she was wearing on camera - Ryder had been picking flattering angles and lighting.

They had won, she had hugged him, and even kissed him once more.

But she still drove home alone afterwards.

“Man…”

Kristoff turned around in the parking lot, surprised to see Honeymaren walking out behind him. “Real shame, huh?” He felt his eyebrows furrow as she looked down into her bag. Did she know? “I know, I know, I’m not supposed to know but,” she shrugged and smiled sadly up at him. “Her sister has loose lips.”

He nodded once, hoping she would continue. Thank god she wasn’t so tight with secrets either. “Just… God their father is the worst, right? I can’t believe that he just fired her like that.”

His heart was hammering in his throat as she kept talking. 

“You’d think, you know... that’s his kid, right? Give them the benefit of the doubt?” She was shaking her head now. “Apparently he called her all sorts of…” She sighed into a groan and she practically shivered. “Just… horrible.”

Kristoff gave her about thirty seconds to continue before he blurted out a quiet “why?” He ignored how her eyes widened. “Why did he fire her?”

Honey looked shocked now. “She… Anna hasn’t told you?”

He could feel his eyes fluttering slightly as he shook his head. “No…”

“Oh, um…” 

Regret was radiating off of her in waves. She had said too much, he knew she thought it, but… He understood, now. No one wants to be fired - much less by their own parent - not to mention, Kristoff genuinely couldn’t think of a single thing Anna could have possibly done wrong. She was a great employee, and a great on-air personality… But he still didn’t understand why she wasn’t telling him. 

Unless…

His shoulders slumped. “Was it… because of me? Because,” he stuttered for a moment, gripping the strap of his duffel. “Because she was dating me?”

“Oh, god,” Honey cringed, pressing a palm against her forehead. “I… I think you should talk to her. I… shit. I’m sorry.” He watched her cheeks darken as she turned to head back to her car. “I… god, I thought you would’ve known.”

He nodded once, curt and hardly there, as she climbed into her drivers’ side. “Me, too,” he mumbled, before she shut the door.

—

One more day passed before he heard the personalized Disney ringtone she had set on his phone - because you said I was pretty enough to be a princess, remember? - and Kristoff was almost embarrassed at how he dove for his phone. “Anna?”

“Wanna come over?” She sounded so shy, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “I’ll order pizza.”

“Of course, give me a few minutes.”

She hung up almost immediately and he definitely broke a few speed limits getting to her as quickly as he possibly could. And, as if she heard his truck, or his heavy footsteps, or even his panting for air as he sprinted up the staircase, her front door swung open just as he lifted his hand to knock. 

“Hi --”

“No talking.” Anna threw her arms around his neck and led him quickly into the apartment, kissing him deeply as they stumbled over her haphazard piles of belongings. It was only a short walk before he recognized the distinct smell of her perfume that was strongest in the bedroom.

Fuck, he knew they needed to talk, he knew she needed to tell him, or that he needed to tell her, but she was so warm and giving and he had missed her so much. Then suddenly, a moment of clarity as she threw herself down on the bed, fingers tangled in his t-shirt, moving with enough force to pull them apart for just a moment as he locked his arms on either side of her. “Hang on, wait, Anna… We really should--”

Her hand clasped over his mouth. “I said no talking.”

Kristoff blinked a couple times in surprise, eyes scanning over her face. Her nose and cheeks were red, eyes dark and wet, and she had still fucking been crying. But… would this make her feel better? Could he risk turning her down and her kicking him out? She was in control of this whole situation, and if this was what she wanted… 

God, no.

No, it wouldn’t help. He knew her well enough by now to know that for sure, didn’t he?

Turning his head enough to slip her hand from his lips, Kristoff twisted his hips so that he was sitting beside her now on the bed, resting one of his hands on her forearm and squeezing reassuringly. “Anna…” 

Her cheeks were red, now with embarrassment, as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over her skin. “Honeymaren, uh… She told me what happened.”

There was a mixture of confusion and anger and relief washing over her features as she seemed to be puzzling over which one to allow to the forefront. He blew out one breath of air, and had to close his eyes when he heard one heavy sob escape from her throat. “She… what?”

“Not…” He stroked his fingers up her arm to rest below her shoulder, doing his best to reassure her. “Not everything, I don’t think. Just…” She sat up, forcing his hand to leave her arm and settle on her leg. “That he fired you.”

His eyes dragged over the slight swell of her throat as she swallowed before darting back up to her downcast eyes. Kristoff only hesitated for a moment before he scooted a little closer, now hip to hip, and nudged her with his shoulder. “Anna…” She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy, and he tried his best to give her a soft smile. “You can tell me as much -- or as little -- as you want. I’m here. Just… let me know what you need.”

She blinked away a few tears, sniffled once, and then laid her head against his shoulder.

“He…” Another sniffle. “He was never told that our… how we started…” He couldn’t see her face, but he could almost picture her lip caught between her teeth as she struggled for the words. “He didn’t know it was fake. And… I guess someone told him…”

Warren. That scumbag Warren told him. But how the hell did he even know?”

“So… now I’m a big liar.” Her hands came to grasp at his as he flipped his palm up on her thigh, and she let out a small sigh as she started playing with his fingers. “I guess it just… confirmed his suspicions about me - about…” Anna’s head shook against his shoulder and he nodded, letting it go. It was something she wasn’t ready to reveal yet, and he would respect that.

“Anyway, I guess he said… it wasn’t worth the potential scandal?” He could tell it was easier when she wasn’t looking at him. “If everything came to light… About how I got the job, about the… PR stuff… I think he said I wasn’t good enough at it to justify it… I don’t really know,” she laughed lightly, bitterly, as she squeezed at his fingers, and he tried his best not to let the rage bubbling in his stomach boil over. “I kind of blacked out a bit, I think. But… After the All-Star break, I’m… done.”

Kristoff turned his head to press his lips softly against her hair before settling his cheek against her head once more. “Your father is making a huge mistake. It’s going to be a big loss, you not gracing everyone’s screens anymore.”

Anna laughed, quietly but genuinely this time, and he brought his other arm to settle around her hips. “I’m not kidding, really.” He could feel her turn her nose in to nuzzle against his throat. “Listen, I’ve… seen a lot of interviewers and worked with a lot of interviewers, and you have this very, very natural charisma about you. You get even the most resistant guys to talk.” He vaguely lifted their joined hands to gesture at himself. 

“You hardly wanted anything to do with me, if you want to remember correctly.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned, pinching at the curve of her hip and soaking in the soft sound of her laughter. “That’s what I’m saying. You’re so good at getting people to open up and talk. That’s a skill few possess.”

He wanted so badly to look at her, but Kristoff wouldn’t risk moving if she felt safe here. “And, god, you’re so smart, Anna.” 

A meek “I am?”

“Of course! Fuck, you learned the ins and outs of hockey in a matter of weeks.” He felt her tensing against him. “I swear, you asked questions that even made us impressed. You saw things sometimes that even _I _missed on the ice.”

“No I didn’t.” 

He did pull back then, turning on the bed to face her as he lifted his hands up to her shoulders, pressing firm palms against her. “You did. Anna…” Her eyes rose to meet his and he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and smart and brave -- you took a job you knew nothing about in a new city and you proved that you could do it. You stood up to people who said you couldn’t -”

“... Like you.”

“... Like me.”

There was a smile on her face and a light in her eyes that Kristoff had been so desperately missing. “You’re… you’re brilliant, and you’ll have no problems getting up from this. And…” He leaned a little closer as his hands dragged down her skin to clasp her fingers in his, holding them tightly between their chests. “I believe in you, so much. Whatever I can do to help, whatever you need. I’m your guy.” 

Anna’s whole body shifted with the deep breath she took in and released, as her eyelids fluttered and she bit at her lip. He wanted to kiss her, but first he wanted to make sure she was okay.

“I have no doubt that you’ll come back from this better than ever. Whatever job you find after this.” Blue eyes rose to meet his, and he felt a warmth growing in his chest. All he wanted from this day forward was for her to be so happy, no matter how that came to be. “What can I do?”

She slid her hands out from his and reached forward to stroke soft thumbs over his cheekbones. “You’re already doing it.” Moving to kneel, Anna shifted forward on the bed to settle between his thighs. “Thank you,” she hummed, before pressing her lips against his. It was chaste and soft and slow, and Kristoff felt his lips stretching into a smile under hers.

“Anytime,” he murmured, lifting his hands to rest on her hips. 

It was different this time as she kissed him. It was different as she wrapped her arms around his neck. And it was different as she looked at him, something new and exciting and raw in her eyes, before laying back and encouraging him to join her. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I…” Her eyes darted across his face, and she reached one hand up to cup his jaw. “I want to.”

“Not…” He had to make sure. “Not like before, right? Not just to escape?”

Anna smiled, and shook her head. “No. I just… want to be with you right now.” Her plush bottom lip was caught between her teeth again as she stroked her thumb across his skin. “I… I think I’ve realized something.”

He nodded, bracing his weight on his elbows as he leaned down to continue. 

And finally, it was so, so different, the way they moved together, softly, slowly, cherishing the moment and the comfort of one another as they found a new rhythm that no longer felt like it used to. It no longer felt like just sex, just benefits, just friends.

It no longer felt like just.